


The Child of Safety

by Blue Rose (HailsRose)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Demons, Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Gen, Zine Piece for Little Boy Lost; Little Boy Found
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HailsRose/pseuds/Blue%20Rose
Summary: A pulse of energy flows outward from the pool, a diversion worthy of crushing that witless thought before it can flower. The ripples in the pool go still, insinuating the possibility that Nero is dead, that even when he’s more powerful than he’s ever been, he can still lose.
Relationships: Nero & V (Devil May Cry), Urizen & Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	The Child of Safety

**Author's Note:**

> We got greenlighted to post our Zine pieces for Little Boy Lost, Little Boy Found!!! 
> 
> I am vibrating excitedly over here and maybe three seconds away from bouncing off the walls like a hyperactive ball of writer...y...ness...... something like that. 
> 
> Eh, but anyway, before I yank all my hair with all my nonsense I really just want to say thank you to all the mods from the zine for putting this together and making it an absolute blast to participate in. I really, genuinely enjoyed the entire event and more than that, I seriously enjoyed getting to write about Nero and Urizen again (and there is a 100% chance I'm going to keep doing it now that I've been enabled several times over.) And to everyone who bought the zine, thank you too. I was seriously in awe by the amount of love you guys expressed for the zine. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you all love this piece as much as I loved writing it.

It’s with absolute fascination that Urizen observes Nero as he runs around the Qliphoth, tailing an Empusa from one end of the room to the other. Anything here could kill him, for any reason—boredom, hunger. He’s human after all, and his blood is precious: every last drop must be fed into the fruit in order to obtain its capabilities. Sparing Nero does nothing to support that endeavor but Urizen goes to certain lengths to keep him alive regardless. 

When he was less the demon he is now, he kept time as meticulously as a pocket watch. He counted every second of every day. He cautiously celebrated holidays and anniversaries, usually underneath a cloak with a sword tied to his belt. He’s sacrificed that life and the name tied to it, sacrificed  _ everything _ for his dominion over the Qliphoth and the power it provides. Everything except for Nero, who is a welcome source of entertainment between the far and few battles initiated by foolish challengers. 

In spite of all that, he is impressed by how quickly Nero grows. When he showed up several months ago, he could coo, babble, and speak up to three understandable words. His crying was a constant ache in Urizen’s head. He was timid. He tentatively explored his surroundings, but the quietest noises would send him flying back to Urizen’s side. His gait was more of a pudgy waddle than the graceful stride most humans displayed. 

But as time went on, Nero changed. Though still slower than most demons, he could run with no trouble, climb over roots twice his height, and shuffle over the lower protrusions in the Qliphoth’s landscape. He gained an audacious streak a mile long and showed it off proudly, he’d gone so far as to start demanding things of Urizen like “up!” and “mine!” 

Malphas gave him a weird look when she caught Nero leaping from branch to branch like a baby orangguerra, sassing her three heads the whole way. But he doesn’t have to explain himself to her. 

Urizen is pulled from his thoughts by a warning screech that lasts all of two seconds before a flailing bundle of human child jumps off one of the crests of his throne and lands on his face. He jolts so suddenly that Nero breaks into overjoyed laughter, his  _ claws  _ digging deep. Urizen loops a root around and plucks Nero off. The little wretch despises being manhandled more than a worm on a hook and he makes sure Urizen knows it with a high-pitched shriek. He has a surprising amount of strength packed into his tiny body and it presses against each of Urizen’s nerves as Nero wrestles for his freedom. Urizen does his best to spare him no attention and focuses on finding a spot to set Nero down so he can be left alone. 

It’s such a menial task, moving Nero to the floor, or it would be if Nero stopped wriggling around. 

“Cease, child,” Urizen commands. 

Nero responds with a garbled, high-pitched yell. He smacks his hands against the root wrapped around his middle, writhing around despite Urizen’s attempts to keep him still. 

“Down!” he shouts. 

“Have patience.” 

Urizen’s words fall on deaf ears. Nero insists on being let go of _now_ even if it’s only Urizen who understands that Nero is small and weak and has no demon blood to protect him. Eventually, it gets to be too much, even for Urizen. Nero is halfway to the ground when he finally slips free, unaware of the danger for a blissful second before he plunges into the pool at the throne’s base with a precarious splash.

A tightness blooms in Urizen’s chest. His blood bubbles underneath his skin and roars in his ears. The sensation is one he’d thought he’d forgotten, it had chased him around years ago, a buzzing reminder that no matter how hard he tried he would never be free of the humanity he’d been born with. He leans over and prods into the pool with his roots, searching around the rippling area Nero fell into, barely able to get a grasp on the squirming body. A horrible sort of desperation overwhelms Urizen, washing over him with the force of a tsunami, cold and angry, and giving names to the emotions warring within him. 

_ What a stupid, foolish boy.  _ If he had just listened to Urizen the first time, this wouldn’t have happened. He would be on the ground, pouty but free, running and shouting and loud and reckless and…  _ safe.  _

Nero would be safe. The one thing Urizen never was. 

A pulse of energy flows outward from the pool, a diversion worthy of crushing that witless thought before it can flower. The ripples in the pool go still, insinuating the possibility that Nero is dead, that even when he’s more powerful than he’s ever been, he can still lose. With burning conviction, Urizen wraps his roots around Nero’s waist and yanks him free of the pool. His piercing cry shatters the air, doing something Urizen never thought possible: soothing a fraction of the tightness in his chest. 

What little relief Urizen has is soon discarded as he catches sight of Nero, changed once more. His once soft body is covered in a thick sheen of navy blue scales and a pair of iridescent wings burst from his back. His thick white locks are more unruly and longer than before and shadowed by a silvery pair of feather-like horns wreathing over his head like a crown. Urizen tells himself it’s just another change Nero has sprung on him, another surprise to add to the growing list. But it’s so different, _ so demonic. _ Human children aren’t capable of such transformations.

All Urizen can do is stare. 

Did the Qliphoth do this? Did the human blood grant Nero demonic power? Or did Nero always have demonic power lying latent that Urizen previously did not sense? 

“How curious.” 

Urizen’s eyes dart to Malphas’ form materializing in the center of the throne room. In the blink of an eye, no warning, no greeting, just the world warping to her faintest movement. Her smile is hungry as she peers at Nero before she turns to pay respects to her king. 

“Your Majesty,” she croons, sweeping into a low bow. 

“Malphas.” Urizen says her name with a hint of distaste. “You dare interrupt?” 

Normally, he’d speak to her with the same detachment he uses for giving orders. But the emergence of Nero’s devil powers and the wolfish way she studies him makes Urizen want to tuck Nero out of sight then pick her up and hurl her out of the throne room. He has too many unanswered questions he needs to think about. 

“Forgive me, my king.” She sounds suitably sincere when saying it. Urizen’s guard doesn’t relent; he knows how demons can make use of honesty just as much as they make use of lies. They aren’t so different from humans that way. “I overheard a predicament with your charge. Perhaps, if it suits you, I can aid you with him?” 

“What would you know about human children, Malphas?” Urizen is irritated and he doesn’t bother to hide it when he asks. It pulls at his lips in a snarl and promises punishment if Malphas steps out of line. He knows he owes her his best imitation of respect, for all the work she puts into protecting the Qliphoth from unwanted pests and wordlessly doing the same for Nero when he goes adventuring as though she thinks she can benefit from it. It’s all for naught. Urizen keeps Nero around for entertainment, though he might have more of a reason if he can understand Nero’s powers. 

“Enough to know that they’re sensitive little creatures,” she explains. She makes a grand arc with her hands. A shimmer of magic engulfs her for a brief second. When it disperses, her monstrous form is replaced by a faceless woman in a lengthy gown. The upward curl of her lips suggests she’s done that  _ thing  _ he hates where she pulls an image from the memories he has yet to cleave out of himself. 

_ You owe her,  _ he reminds himself, resisting the urge to maim her. He can settle a debt, no problem. Tentatively, he relinquishes Nero into her outstretched arms and the crying ceases immediately. He stares up at her with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. 

“He stays where I can sense him,” Urizen concedes. He watches closely as she bows and trails from the room, dress swishing around her ankles. 

###

Malphas is dangerous. Nero, as young as he is, understands that much, and fear crackles in his tummy while she cradles him. He’s too paralyzed by her lullaby that _sounds_ _wrong_ that he doesn’t think to get away from her. It’s only when she tickles his tummy with her long, black nails that he shrieks and escapes her hands. 

He sprints as quickly as he can, away from her and all her ickiness. Her voice follows him even as he climbs over a large step and falls down the other side. The slick walls and floor of the Qliphoth meld together as he tumbles, only cushioned by the reflexive instinct to fold his wings around himself until he comes to a complete stop. Then it fades away. 

When he’s okay enough to sit upright, he finds he’s in a completely different place than he’s used to. His weird home has always been dark and made his chest feel heavy but he’s never been this far before. A maze of red lines run along the ground, wet to the touch. Everywhere he looks is the same with demons skittering in far corners. It’s all a bit much for a baby to handle. What starts as a quiet sniffle soon becomes full-blown crying with hot, messy tears. He cries until his throat is raw and hurts, praying that soon he’ll be rescued. 

By some sheer miracle, his prayers are answered. A dark shadow appears before him with such force that all the noise is snatched out of him.

“How interesting,” the shadow murmurs. A limb stretches out and a whirl of feathers snatches Nero up by the collar of his tunic. He hiccups as the wind whispers and he’s carried off, the world becoming a blur for a few seconds before he plops outside the throne room. He stares up, trying to find the creature that grabbed him before he hears Malphas calling for him again. A shiver runs through him as he slips through a crack and into the throne room and heads straight for Urizen and safety. 

###

On a ledge, just out of Urizen’s peripheral, the silhouette of a man crouches down, his outstretched arm waiting for the weight of his familiar making himself at home. Griffon ruffles up his feathers, a hoarse noise escapes through his throat and maw.

“V,” Griffon hisses. “What are we doing? Do you want the kid to die!?” He flaps his wings, setting loose fluffy, snowing plumage as Urizen’s roots shoot out and snatch up the puffball. 

V raises a finger to his lips and hushes him, all the frigid quietness of a winter breeze flowing with it. Griffon falls silent. A smile pulls at V’s lips as Urizen lifts the child into a small blind concealed near his throne. The child yawns, scrubbing at his eyes as he takes in his surroundings, then tips over onto his side and curls into a restful sleep.

“Have patience,” V said. “Humanity is contagious. This will play into our favor.” 


End file.
